


In my time of Dying

by gAAmAtsU16



Series: SYNDROME [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Tragedy, DRAMA AND ANGST OVERLOAD DUH WADDAYA EXPECT, Delayed Justice/Gratification, Flashbacks, Life Debt, M/M, Multi, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-07 11:34:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17959721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gAAmAtsU16/pseuds/gAAmAtsU16
Summary: Twenty years he’d given this his everything. Twenty years since coming out of that nightmare alive.And finally, they would witness the elimination of ‘Project Syndrome’ for good.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was listening to my Nickelback playlist when ‘In my time of Dying’ played and it kinda reminded me of Project Syndrome so much (‘coz damn, the lyrics are super spot-on xD ) and so I just had to write this one.
> 
> A prequel/sequel of “Project Syndrome” set years after and a flashback of when Oikawa Tooru and Iwaizumi Hajime had been the one undertaking it with the rest from Aoba Johsai High School.
> 
> Character deaths. Profanities. Angst. Overflowing drama. The usual stuff. ;-) Enjoy!

“Hajime?”

A soft knock followed by his door being abruptly opened startled Iwaizumi from his self-musing. The cup of coffee slipped from his hand. “Shit.” He stood, feeling the burn of the hot liquid soak his pants.

“I am so sorry,” Iwaizumi raised his palm to stop the intruder as he neared to assist.

“No, it’s fine, I’ve got it, Kenji.” He grabbed some tissues and dabbed them on the spill. His cursing intensified as the coffee had smudged some of the documents on his desk.

Futakuchi stayed where he was near the door. “I’m really sorry. I should’ve known better to barge in when you’re deep in your thoughts. I mean, the warning at the door says enough.”

Iwaizumi grunted. He had placed a very large “KEEP OUT” sign done in angry red pen outside his office but his workmates frequently chose to ignore it, much to his disapproval.

“You didn’t get much sleep again.” Futakuchi said. Iwaizumi noticed it wasn’t a question.

“Whatever gave it away?” He replied sarcastically.

“Should I answer in order or by number?”

“Should I punch you on the right or on the left?" Futakuchi laughed at his half-assed threat. "What do you want anyway?”

Futakuchi grew quiet. He handed him a folder. It has the red logo of the Ministry of Justice on the center.

“I’ve told the boss I’m not taking any other case –“

“They’ve got him in the Philippines.”

Iwaizumi stilled. His head turned towards the caramel-haired, slowly.

“You can get the mission log from Takanobu later. This was sent from Shimada-san who was field operator in Manila. They’re flying _him_ over here in three days’ time.”

Iwaizumi forgot to breathe. He snatched the folder and skimmed over it like a hawk.

“The Office of Defense plans to hold him in Kanagawa under surveillance of the National Security,” Futakuchi continued, “Their party demanded a trial despite illimitable evidences against his crimes. Takanobu has expressed violent opposition against this. He said why delay the inevitable, or somewhere around those lines. He wishes to dispatch agents to Kanagawa in forty-eight hours.”

The report was dancing in Iwaizumi’s vision. The words jumbled and all he could make out was ‘caught’ and ‘guilty’. The rest didn’t matter.

“When’s the enlisting?” He felt his heart about to burst and was surprised he could muster up words.

“I’ve already given them your name. You can get the case details later. There’s a meeting by six by the way. Sit down, Hajime. You look like you’d collapse any minute.” Futakuchi gestured to his chair and Hajime obediently complies. “Deep breathe. I know this is too much to process.”

“I feel faint.”

“Of course.” Futakuchi pressed his shoulder.

“I feel overwhelmed.”

“Of course.”

He hears a choke. He realized it was from him. “They’ve got him. That’s real…right?”

Futakuchi smiled and his eyes glazed over too. “Yes. They did. You can now exhale. It’s all over. Finally.”

“ _Finally_.” He repeated. The tears came. And Iwaizumi let it. He doesn’t remember crying since… _that_ day. He thought he could never shed another goddamn tear after that. But he does. And he lets it fall. Allows it to fall.

“I’ll go secure your exit permits. Sit down and let it all sink in. I’ll update you the final pronouncements.” Futakuchi patted his shoulder and stood up. “Or better yet, you should go home. The Agency doesn’t require your services for now.”

Iwaizumi shook his head.  “I want to be here during the meeting for that.”

Futakuchi hesitated but accepts Iwaizumi’s excuse. He leaves with a promise to return.

Iwaizumi sits there, just staring at the space where he had been. He spins his chair to the desk, flips the folder and begins going over the papers in lightning speed. He takes in the details, the reports and descriptions. With every new information his heart constricts and his head feels light. Drops of water splatter on the documents and he doesn’t even care if evidence of his emotions slipping would be recorded on the surface of the papers. It doesn’t fucking matter. They would understand why he reacted like this.

He reads the entire report in record time. He placed his hands on each side of his temple and starts gasping. _It’s done._ He sobs, feeling his chest tighten with each hiccup. He raises his head and searches for his mobile phone. He blindly punches a number and waits with labored breathing as it dials.

A voice picks up on the third ring.

“I’m surprised I get to hear from you, _lover,_ first week of the month.” Iwaizumi sighs at the familiar, nagging voice. “Are you in trouble or am I in trouble, which is it?” Iwaizumi couldn’t suppress the choke he was trying to hold in. The line silenced. “Iwa-chan? Are you— Is everything all right?”

Tears fall again. He takes a heavy breath. “Tooru…”

“What is it? Hajime? What’s wrong?”

“It’s done.” Iwaizumi says. He didn’t need to elaborate. Oikawa knows what that means.

He hears silence first as understanding dawns, then a gasp as he realized fully what Iwaizumi meant. “Done…Is-is that,” Long puffs of breathe, “Is that true?”

“Yes.” He steadies his own ragged breathing. “I’ve got the official report just minutes ago. I’ll be hearing the rest later after the assembly. Where are you? Is there a chair near you? Sit down, Oikawa.”

“I’m on the goddamn floor, Hajime.” Oikawa mutters. He seemed to be somewhere public as he was trying hard not to cry loudly. “Fuck you for telling me this. I’m in the gym for Christ's sake. I could—I might hyperventilate!”

“I’m sorry. I-I can’t take it all in. The first thing I wanted to do was tell you.” Iwaizumi finds himself smiling even with tears sliding down his face. “I wanted to tell you. We’ve got the bastard that sent us to that hellhole. That took our friends and destroyed their futures. It’s…finally over.”

Iwaizumi’s gaze passes over his work board filled and pinned with several sticky notes, photographs and cut out texts. He lingers longer at the two photographs pinned on the upper right; one was a class picture of him and his classmates back when he was in his third year at Aoba Johsai High School. The other was a similar class pictorial of another batch of students in black uniforms.

“It’s over.” Oikawa echoes. His melancholy Iwa can hear over the receiver. “Justice will finally be served.”

* * *

 

Iwaizumi waits for the disheveled figure he expects to be in a sorry mess outside the Tokyo Metropolitan Stadium.

It’s already ten in the evening, the conference for the Kanagawa trial had ended a lot late than he had expected, but the lights and sounds of life coming from the massive gymnasium was testimony that they are more hardworking people than private investigators.

The doors opened and athletes poured out. He hears the nickname before he saw the caller. “Iwa-chan.” Oikawa lumbers into his view. “You could’ve at least sent me a text you we’re gonna pick me up. Have you been waiting all this time?”

“It wasn’t that long.” More like just three hours standing in the chilly night. “And it looks like I made the right decision, considering the ugly state you’re in.” Behind his prescription glasses, Oikawa’s eyes were puffy and red.

“And whose fault was that?” Oikawa whispers but there was no bite in his tone. Iwaizumi opens his arms in invitation which Oikawa greedily dives into. “How did they get him?”

Iwaizumi tightens their embrace, rubs affectionately at Oikawa's back. “Get in the car. I’ll explain on the way.” He takes his sling bag and opens the car door for him.

The drive was filled with tension and eagerness. Iwaizumi mans the wheel as Oikawa sits in the passenger seat.

“His location was revealed to the higher-ups via unanimous sightings.” Iwaizumi starts. “He’d been slipping past our security for years. After the exposure of his illegal enactments under the government’s nose he’d fallen off the radar. I had to fly to Europe with Shimada-san to take more concrete evidence of his claims. He was a hard bastard to track but eventually his whereabouts had been leaked to our intel department. Forces were sent to Manila and they’ve gunned him to submission before he could escape via plane.”

Oikawa looks out the window, eyes blank. “So he was shot?”

“In the leg. They had to, he was resisting when they got him cornered.”

Oikawa nods. “He’s given the agency unnecessary unrest for so long. So, what’s gonna happen to him?”

“His lawyers had requested to hold a trial.”

“A trial?” Oikawa spun his head to face Iwaizumi with angry eyes. “He doesn’t need one. He needs to be put behind bars as quickly as possible.”

“He’s got some pretty big shots in the defense department. Like what you'd expect with anyone who has very broad connections. But I wouldn’t worry; Shimada-san's hired elite prosecutors and juries who will supervise the trial. They’re meticulous and very difficult to persuade and very law-abiding. He won’t be getting out anymore.” Iwaizumi says sternly.

“No, he should not. He doesn’t deserve any minute breathing out in the open. He doesn’t deserve- doesn’t deserve to even be breathing at all.” Oikawa’s voice was venomous. Iwaizumi spares a glance at his childhood friend. He was shaking with visible fury. “He doesn’t…deserve to live. Not after- he toyed with the lives of so many people, Hajime. I don’t think…I’ll be satisfied with just him being imprisoned.”

Iwaizumi removes one hand from the steering wheel to clutch at his knee “No. I will not too.”

Oikawa huffs, releasing his anger and takes Iwa's hand to hold lovingly. “I’m sorry I wasn’t of much help with this. You…sacrificed a lot.”

“It’s nothing.” He answers immediately. “This is nothing. It had to be done.”

“You poured so much into accomplishing this. You had a couple of run-ins with death and various trips to the ER...”

“I told you, it’s nothing. And don’t be too hard on yourself. I made the shot to enter the Detective agency and become a Private Investigator. It was my call to engross my years to hunting down that bastard.”

Oikawa was not convinced, caressing Iwa's knuckles absently. In fact, he looked even guiltier. “But I could’ve helped you. I'm...”

"Don't say that." Iwaizumi pulls their intertwined hands to kiss Oikawa's palm. "Never say that to yourself, Tooru. Besides, you flunked their entrance test, Shittykawa. Twice."

"It's so nice how you could ruin the moment with your lack of human filter, Iwa-chan."

"You wouldn’t last a year on the Intel division. You uphold that stereotype of Beauty with no brains, after all.”

“Mean. I gave it my best to be with you.”

“I know, but you’re just not cut out for it. And if you recall, I insisted you follow your dreams, pick up a career you want and enjoy life. Someone between us has to.” Iwaizumi places a quick kiss on his hand before placing both on the wheel. “It paid off. You’re now first-string setter of the Men’s national Volleyball team.”

“You deserve to enjoy life too, dummy. It’s what we promised to do.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes grew serious. “I have a lifetime to do what I want after. With you. They…they don’t.”

They reach Oikawa’s apartment. He insists for Iwaizumi to stay the night since the older man looked about ready to pass out and is in no shape to drive.

Iwaizumi was brushing his teeth when Oikawa says. “I want to go to Kanagawa with you.”

He turns, startled but kind of expecting that. “What of your team? You have a game in a few weeks, don’t you?”

“They can make it even without me there. I have utmost belief in my team. They're strong...like, Seijo.” Oikawa casts his eyes down, hands clutching the doorknob with intensity. “I need to be there when the jury makes the verdict. I need…to be there.”

Iwaizumi straightens, discards his towel on the futon and walks up to Oikawa. He envelops him in a placating hug, kissing the juncture of his neck and shoulder which he knows soothes the other. “I understand. We’ll go there together. He needs to see us. He needs to _see_ what he made us go through and what we’ve become after surviving it.” Oikawa looks up at him. Tears welled up in his eyes again. “You’re already a grown adult and yet you’re still an ugly crier.”

“And you’re still a heartless workaholic with no mouth filter.” That earns a small laugh from Iwaizumi. In a more solemn tone, Oikawa adds, “We’re going to make him see we’ve been broken but kept on fighting with all the broken pieces.”

"Damn straight." They stay in a joined position for a while until Oikawa yawns and Iwaizumi laughs quietly, giving him a brief kiss on his forehead. They retire for the night. Oikawa lulled to slumber after crying himself to sleep, nestled in Iwa's chest. 

Iwaizumi allows his partner's heavy breathing to smooth out before he carefully detaches himself from their spooning position and heads towards the table with his stuff. He opened his laptop and checked his account. There were three unread mails sent hours ago. One was from Takanobu Aone, his boss in the Detective Agency. He’d sent a video footage of log XV418. Futakuchi must’ve reminded him to send it to Iwaizumi. The other was from Futakuchi himself with his attached exit permit and a message that his request for temporary leave of absence had been granted. He mentally reminded himself to thank his field partner for both the favors.

Another email has been received much earlier. The sender was Shimada Makoto. He quickly opens it; his heart beating so loud it could pop out his rib cage. His message was brief, with two lines of sentences:

_To: hajimeiwaizumi610_

_Cc: ----_

_Subject: Case closed_

_You’ve probably been informed. It’s not publicly announced yet. But it’s true._

_It’s done, Hajime._

Once more, the tears were more than Iwaizumi could handle. His chest was pooling with so many emotions he fears Oikawa might wake up to his petrified form in the morning.

Twenty years he’d given this his everything. Twenty years since coming out of that nightmare alive.

And finally, _finally,_ he would witness the elimination of ‘Project Syndrome’ for good.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I should’ve prioritized your deaths when they didn’t found your bodies. I shouldn’t have let you live. I should have just blasted the entire tunnel to kill you all completely.”  
> “No,” Oikawa says casually. “You shouldn’t have sent Karasuno. The moment you did, you’re a dead man walking.”

A familiar face met them on the entrance.

“Shimada-san.” Oikawa cheerily greeted the man who was leaning casually on the doorframe. He looked ordinary in his black tailored suit and chequered pants. The only thing off about his wear is his left arm in a sling.

“Tooru. Hajime.” He bowed politely at the two.

“I see you’ve intentionally downplayed your attire.” Iwaizumi nodded at his suit. The elite investigator usually wore a harsh long brown coat over a same colored vest and dark pants. He was prominent to be a very imposing figure in the Intel department despite his gentle faccade. He was also Iwaizumi’s senior.

“I had to abandon my regular ‘do since I have this blasted thing that would tarnish my image.” He waved his slung arm.

“Are you sure you’re all right? We’ve heard you haven’t been given withdrawal clearance from the medical staff yet.” Iwaizumi gives a rapid check on his mentor’s physique.

“They may sue me all they want later. Right now, I have a criminal whose liberty to live expires.” His voice was low.

Oikawa and Iwaizumi shared knowing glances. “Will they push through the death penalty?” Oikawa asks.

“With insurmountable claims to vindicate his monstrosity, probably. The only thing unnerving me is the big influence his party has over this jurisdiction.” He raises his hand in ease upon the pair’s looks of distress. “Don’t worry. The Koanchosa is supervising the trial. They’re known to be very strict upholders of the nation’s laws. I’ve plenty of acquaintances in the division. And the judge is a confidant of mine. Rest assured, we won’t be seeing a defeat here today.”

They exhale reliefs. Oikawa takes Iwaizumi’s hand in a gesture of comfort. “We owe you everything, Shimada-san—”

He raised his palm. “There’s no need for gratitude. I should thank you. For your efforts and resolve. I couldn’t have done this without you two, for joining me in this difficult farce.” He smiles sincerely. “Thank you, for listening to me twenty years ago.”

Iwaizumi nods. The memory of their first meeting was buried deep in his thoughts but unforgotten:

“ _I’m sorry, could you repeat what you just fucking said?” Iwaizumi asked, clearly suspicious._

_He and Oikawa had a visitor. It’s their very first since being admitted in the Mental Institute against their wills._

_The man in a brown coat replied patiently. “I said I know a way to stop ‘Project Syndrome’. But I can’t do it without both your support. You will turn tables in this fight.” He gave each of them an unblinking stare; a look of pure confidence._

_Iwaizumi was about to protest again but Oikawa asks. “You know of Syndrome?” His voice was trembling but strong._

_Shimada nods. “You believe us?” He says through his breaking composure._

_“More than anyone else.”_

_“Who are you?”_

_“Just someone who lost what is dear to him in the manner like yours.” He approaches the two on the table, takes both their hands in a reassuring grip. “I know you two feel so alone. But you’re not. You will not be anymore. Help me stop the beasts running Syndrome.”_

_Oikawa cries freely while Iwaizumi looks at him squarely but tears glistened and fell from his passive eyes. After a couple of minutes, “What’s your plan?”_

Shimada was an Investigator based in the U.S when he heard of the news back in Japan; of a tunnel accident that killed high schoolers and of two survivors that pointed fingers at the government and repeatedly claimed them responsible for hidden murders through a military enactment called Project Syndrome. The nation labelled them insane. Not him.

He was running into many dead-ends in his entire career that meeting Oikawa Tooru and Iwaizumi Hajime, the first known survivors of the evil system, had refreshed his hunger to put a lid on the rampant play of youth’s lives.

“Satoshi would’ve been proud.” Oikawa says, clutching at Shimada’s forearm gently. Satoshi was Shimada’s son. He’d been one of the many victims who died in Syndrome.

“He ignited my dedication but you fuelled it. I don’t know if I could’ve done it if I hadn’t happened upon you.” Shimada says. “I owe you everything.”

“No. We owe everything to our friends in Seijoh. And to Karasuno.” Iwaizumi said firmly.

A guard disturbs their heartfelt conversation. “Sir, this man is looking for you.” He gestures at the person beside him.

“Bokuto. It’s so nice to have you join us. Please.” Shimada waves the newcomer closer.

Bokuto Kotarou had striking white hair and dons a grey suit.

“Shimada-san.” He shakes the man’s hand. "Iwaizumi. Oikawa. It’s been some time.”

“How have you been, Bokuto?” Oikawa asks, encasing the man in a friendly hug.

“Better, I guess. My boss allowed me to leave to attend this hearing.” He gazes over the large wooden doors. “He’s in there right? The bastard that ruined our lives.” The acid in his voice was palpable. It was not fitting to his rather cheery features but at the same is.

“I wouldn’t have asked you to come if not for the necessity of witness narrations.” Shimada bows in apology.

“I’ll do it nonetheless. It’s…It’s the least I can do. For Akaashi.” Bokuto’s school, Fukurodani Academy was the next that was chosen after Karasuno. He had only survived because of the sacrifice of his partner, Akaashi Keiji who had stayed behind.

Shimada nodded, accepting his determination. “Unfortunately this is all I can round up. There had been only six survivors in the course that Syndrome had run. Sakusa has refused my invitation but sent me the tape from his Walkman. Takeru and Ikejiri…they’re both too incapacitated to relay their experiences.”

After Karasuno helped Oikawa and Iwaizumi escape the hellish cat-and-mouse chase in the Seijoh tunnel, there had been seven more schools that had been forced to participate in Syndrome. Fifteen batches of students sent to engage in a murderous exercise just to enforce conduct and discipline. More than three hundred promising youths, all dead.

“Fortunately, your recounts are enough of a plausible evidence to raise our petition. With Sakusa’s salvaged voice recordings of the events and mine and Hajime’s stocks of authentic evidences gathered throughout the years, it’ll vindicate the falsehood of their aims and earn them their one way ticket to permanent imprisonment.”

“ _Mr. Shimada_ ,” a foreigner approaches their small group. He spoke in fluent English, “ _The office wants me to inform you the hearing will begin in twenty minutes._ ”

“ _Thank you, John. I will inform my defendants_.”

“ _They had transferred the convicted to the East Wing and allowed a brief assemblage should any of you request it._ ”

Shimada blinks at him. He returns his attention to the three. “They’re permitting audience with him.” He sees the widening of their eyes. “If any of you would like to meet the beast in the flesh, I’ll secure your assignation.”

* * *

 

He looked like any normal man. He could easily pass as somebody’s father, brother, son or an ordinary citizen.

He had short cropped hair, a pudgy face with a beard and had greying hair that indicated he was beyond ripened years. He wore a light brown suit and carried himself with regal grace and an aura of confidence as if he was walking out of the court a free man.

The metal door clanked open. A policeman enters with two men strolling behind.

“You have guests, Uchiyara-sama.” The officer regards with him the proper honorifics. He was after all, a man with vast influence all over Japan.

Uchiyara in turn has his eyes on the two entering figures. A slight burst of anger betrays his calm demeanour. “I wouldn’t have dreamed to be visited by the two people who had jeopardized my entire life’s operation.” His voice was steady when he stood. He extended his cuffed hands. “I don’t recall having the pleasure to meet in person, Iwaizumi-kun, Oikawa-kun. I’m Uchiyara Kazuhiro Sr.” Of course, he’d know them. It took all of the pair’s self-control not to hit the man on spot. They had sworn not to get violent with the convicted before his trial. “Mmm. Not chummy, I guess. Oh well, if you’d excuse this poor man’s bad back. I will sit back down if you insist to stand there and gloat. If staring could kill, I would’ve been dead two times over.” He had the gall to joke around.

Iwaizumi spoke first. His voice was levelled. “You’re either too arrogant or your overconfidence is misplaced. You should prepare yourself already; this place will be your last residence ‘till you rot.”

“I own about twenty estates all over the continent, to be frank. None too stuffy and rundown. I’ll settle in any of those once I sashay out of here. But thank you for the offer.”

Iwaizumi places his hands on the cold table. “I am astonished you’re both of what I had mentioned. And you’re deaf and dumb to boot. They could use an animal like you here. It’s made for merciless monsters like you after all.”

“Your eloquence is quite profound, Iwaizumi-kun. Years of mad hunting and restlessly chasing at false wrongdoers had made you so stiff of a man.” Uchiyara was not to be intimidated that easily.

Fortunately, Iwaizumi kept his cool. “Speak freely all you want, old man. That is the only liberty that will remain with you once you’ve settled completely here. Would you like me to enumerate why you should abandon your fucking fantasies of sashaying out of here?”

“Please, enlighten me.” Uchiyara said but it has hints of annoyance. Like Iwaizumi was a petulant child testing his patience.

“Your men ousted you. At least half of your personnel had confessed to you spearheading this inhumane experiment from day zero. We’ve access to your laboratories in Fukuoka and Hokkaido. We have three of your main computers being hijacked by our Division tech. We’ve piled hundreds of footages and files and documents that cement you a law-breaker in all the fucking years we’ve been chasing you non-stop. Must be tiresome isn’t it? To have to flee from all those hell-bent in your goddamn capture. Ever since our escape, you’ve been running with your tail between your legs.” Iwaizumi wasn’t done. He was egging the man on and he seemed to be succeeding in riling him up. “You want to know who leaked your location in the Philippines, and gave us even your escape route? It’s your goddamn grandson, you motherfucker. Your so-called heir. He has pledged to the court in exchange for witness protection. See? Even your own family has come to realize what a megalomaniac criminal you are and doesn’t want a murderer taint their reputations.”

“Are you done?” Uchiyara asked in an effort to hide his contempt.

“So eager to place your head in a stake? But I’m not finished yet. The court is going to pass the death penalty on you, I guarantee. Newsflash: you’re not getting out of here _alive._ ”

Uchiyara glared at Iwaizumi for a minute as angry realization became evident in his stoic features. Then he suddenly laughed. It was so out of character that it even surprised Iwaizumi. “You see the kind of person you’ve become, Hajime-kun? I could see it in your eyes.” Iwaizumi recoiled when the old man got too close to his face. “They’re hungry. They’re famished. For revenge. For death. _My_ death. You’ve become obsessed with it. Anger ruins the humanity inside us all and I see it has ravished you from the inside it’s leaking.”

“I’m not like you. I’m not a murderer.” Iwaizumi’s fists balled.

“On the contrary, you are so like me in many ways. Who among us has the greater blood lust I presume?” Uchiyara grinned deviously. He turned his malicious eyes at Oikawa. “And here we have, Tooru-kun. Who is more of a coward than I am. What have you contributed to this whole setting, hm? You _ran_ from the ugly truth and frolicked in the false bounty your pesky of a second life had given you. You can’t take credit for any of this. You know you’re useless. Now, and even during those days in the tunnel you were useless.”

“Shut up!” Iwaizumi made to grab the man but Oikawa stopped him.

“Oh? You have something to say for yourself, then? Let’s hear it.” Uchiyara challenged.

Oikawa looked surprisingly calm. He slid one hand on Iwaizumi’s torso, to appease him. “Don’t let him get to you, Hajime. He’s spouting everything he can to rev you up. It’s a chemical defect found in the losing side.” He sweeps his warm brown orbs at the old man on the chair.

“Still the foolish smartass that you are. If only your words could’ve anchored your friends to life, I might feel a teeny tiny sense of respect for you. But when words and actions fail, it makes such a poor example of a man.”

Oikawa was observant. He was skilled in reading people. Which is why he was certain that the confident tone which Uchiyara carries in his voice is without a doubt, fake.

“I just want to ask you something.” He paused as Uchiyara gaped at him wordlessly. “What did you feel, when you watch all of us, all those you sent for Syndrome dying one-by-one?”

The question took them aback, Iwaizumi and Uchiyara. The older man snickered after his brief surprise. “You’re a funny one, aren’t you? What do you want me to say? That I feel sorry? That I pity you? What I did, what we accomplished was for the betterment of the country. Crimes intensify. People kill and commit atrocities. The only way to make sure our country will not suffer from impending doom of criminals and murderers is to instil in them that the government is a force that should not be crossed. Men start out juvenile. They grow and mature. We have to begin where they are still impotent. Before they could be exposed to commit ill-deeds they have to be severely reminded that discipline is a stern master. And anyone can bend to its will.”

“Is that a confession?” Oikawa asks calmly.

Uchiyara laughs again. “It’s a declaration of the truth. Whatever I say cannot be used against me.”

“I know. I just want to see your eyes when you say it.”

Uchiyara blinks. Then sneers. “So cocky now, are we? I see no fault at what I’ve done. I did it for a better future, free of crimes and law-breakers. There is nothing you can do or say that will provoke me you useless piece of shit.”

Iwaizumi tries to break free from Oikawa’s hold but the latter calmly resists him. He leaned down, to level his body to look at the man eye-to-eye. “Yes, I’ve been useless. I still am.” His voice was full of base. “But that was because I had been scared. But I’m not now. At least, not at you. I want you to remember, that this,” he bumps his fist on his chest roughly and with eyes like an owl said, “ _this_ useless piece of shit is one of the many ghosts that will haunt you ‘till the last thing you will remember is that we’re _alive_ and you won’t be _._ ”

It was like a chord snapped. The old man grabbed Oikawa’s collar but Iwaizumi snatched his hands as two officers came ushering inside to detain him. He thrashed, his calm composure breaking, replaced with frantic desperation.

 “I should’ve prioritized your deaths when they didn’t found your bodies.” Uchiyara grits. “I shouldn’t have let you live. I should have just blasted the entire tunnel to kill you all completely.”

“No, Uchiyara-sama,” Oikawa says casually. “You shouldn’t have sent Karasuno. The moment you did, you’re a dead man walking.”

* * *

 

“…given the overwhelming evidence, I find the defendant, Kazuhiro Uchiyara Sr., GUILTY of murder in the first degree. I hereby sentence him to lifetime incarceration with no parole.”

“As a condition for the probation of illegal violations to the highest order, the court orders the decree admissible to death sentence. The execution shall transpire in ten days.”

_BANG._

There was no applause. There were no relieved cries. There was no movement. There was no reaction, whatsoever.

Shimada sits unmoving. He follows the path of the two armed officers who takes the accused off his pedestal and escorts him out.

Bokuto was biting his hand. Tears gushed out his sockets like a broken pipe but no sounds came from him.

Uchiyara passed in front of them. He didn’t stop, didn’t spared them a glance. With his chin held high, he refused to show any signs of defeat. He showed them, until the end, he was not guilty with his actions at all. He disappears through a set of wooden doors, his fate not unknown.

The door gives a thud; a sound of closure.

Oikawa takes off his glasses, allows the lid that barricades his emotions to run freely. No one in the entire courtroom is going to judge him.

Iwaizumi sits upright, takes his arm and squeezes it, lets him feel he’s there, lets him cry for the both of them. His eyes remain fixed on the closed doors. His eyes were dry. His chest hollow. His heart heavy.

He thinks back on the judge’s decision.

The verdict was inevitable. Expected. Right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The flashbacks gonna start next chap. Meaning so will the violence, drama and carnage. I'm...sorry? LMAO


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Will you kill me, Iwa-chan, if I ask what in the world did we get ourselves into?”  
> “For the moment it’s completely forgivable, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi raises angry green orbs at him, “Because I want some fucking answers to what Project Syndrome is all about too.”

_He feels urgent hands shaking his shoulder. He wanted to say it’s useless; his shoulder feel numb. “Oikawa, get up!”_

_Oikawa forces his eyes open. The first he notices were the sounds around him; of gunfire and screaming and explosion. \_

_Next, he sees Hanamaki’s dirty face and bleeding lip._ _“Tooru, stop gawking and get your fuckin ass up.”_

_The scene zaps back to focus. The bus, their school bus was overturned. There were armed men firing at them from the outside. And his classmates…_

_Oikawa sits up abruptly and his head throbbed excruciatingly. He clutches at it as his vision clears. And he gasps. All around him, faces of people he knew for three years sprawled dead._

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

Ratatatatatatatatatat

_“Maki, haul Oikawa up and let’s bail.” Matsukawa shouts over the chaos. He looked no less filthy and bruised-free._

_Hanamaki curses, links Oikawa’s arm over his shoulder and half-carries him up. Oikawa’s vertigo returns. He covers his mouth with his free hand, to prevent his stomach from hurling its contents, as they hastily jump out the vehicle._

_They were in the middle of a highway with their path blocked by officers bombarding them. The road cuts downhill to a forest. Some of the students had escaped into it and were signalling the rest to hurry over._

_Mizoguchi was pushing Yahaba and Yuda, the last of his students who’re alive, off to join the rest on the escape downhill. “Kyoutani, what are you doing? We need to go.”_

_The blonde lingers near the windows of the bus._

_“_ _Kyoutani.” Iwaizumi yells at the foot of the road. “Let’s go.”_

_Kyoutani reaches the gas chamber, whirls the cap off and kicks the canister. The dent allows the kerosene to spill over. He huffs satisfied and makes his escape._

_“Further into the trees. They can’t get a clear shot at us there.” Mizoguchi instructs, steering the frenzied students into the wilderness._

Boooooooooooommmmmm!!!

_They turn to see bright flames lit up the sky walk. Their bus had exploded. The bullets must’ve come in contact with the spilled gas and caused the blast._

_“Holy shit.” Kindaichi exclaims as he slows down to observe the wreckage._

_Black smoke clouded the skies. There was a very strong odor hanging in the air that followed them. The explosion would’ve killed off most of their unknown pursuers. That, and some of their classmates that unfortunately hadn’t made it out. It wouldn’t have mattered anyways, as they were all dead._

_“What the hell.” Iwaizumi mutters. They had completely stopped to view the raging inferno. One they had almost succumbed to._

_“Let’s get out of here.” Mizoguchi approaches Saeko, the other teacher that came on their supposed field trip who was limping from a bleeding leg._

_They made it into a clearing. A small brook flowed in between great big trees. It was so thick that it veiled most of the sunlight, casting shadows on what was once a bright morning._

_“WHAT THE HELL HAD JUST HAPPENED?” Kindaichi cuts through the silence. He was shaking all over._

_Kunimi raised and pressed his shoulder in a failed attempt to ease him down. “Yutaru, please_ — _”_

_He shoved the hand aggressively. “No, don’t tell me to fucking calm down, Kunimi. What the- we’ve just been in an obvious massacre and you want me to calm the fuck down?!”_

_“Kindaichi, that’s enough!” Iwaizumi says. His fists balled and he keeps his anger in check. “You’re not helping anyone with your stupid outburst. So shut the fuck up.”_

_The boy deflates, sits on a log and begins to cry openly._

_“That’s a little bit harsh. He’s just terrified.” Matsukawa says breathlessly, eyeing their bawling classmate._

_“I don’t care. We all are. He’s not an exception.”_

_Mizoguchi takes command. “First, let’s tend to who’s injured.”_

_“We’re all injured, sensei. You have to be specific.” Hanamaki says, wiping the blood off his lip._

_“All those injured who are out of it.” The teacher clarifies. “The rest who can move about, let’s all help each other. This is not the time to be divided. If we’re going to create better distance between them we need to be in top shape.”_

_With that, the abled ones set to offer mild care to their fellow classmates who suffered slightly severe than them._

_“You okay, kaichou?” Hanamaki asks their class president who was heaving too deeply._

_“I-I’m fine, I mean, I’ll live.” Yahaba answers. He’d dislocated his shoulder but there are no other signs of permanent damage. He coughs harshly. Kyoutani takes a big leaf and fills it with water from the stream. He offers it to Yahaba who frowns upon it. “That might be contaminated. We don’t know where that’s coming from.”_

_Kyoutani rolls his eyes. “This is what I get for my goodwill? For christ’s sake, Yahaba, just take a sip and save us your broken glass of a voice.”_

_Yahaba usually retorts with the same jab but he is too parched. He accepts the drink reluctantly. “I’m getting a urinalysis once we get back on Miyagi. I might have E.coli infestation.”_

_“Shut up, Yahaba.” Kyoutani and Hanamaki both exclaim._

_“Hey,” Iwaizumi says as he walks over Matsukawa and Oikawa. “You alive?”_

_The brown-haired was leaning heavily on the base of a large tree. Dried blood caked his hairline and his consciousness was still skittish. “Go away, Iwa-chan. Your voice is hurting my brain.”_

_Iwaizumi scoffs. “Didn’t know you had one in the first place.” He kneels in front of him and takes his hand. He asks again in a gentler tone, “You holding okay, Tooru?”_

_Oikawa was too disoriented to answer so he raises a shaky okay sign with his fingers and squeezes the hand on his._

_“He’s good, he’ll live.” Matsukawa translates the gesture. He ruffles Oikawa’s head playfully._

_“Sssttooopppppp, not the hair.” Oikawa tiredly bats his hand away._

_“Even after what we’ve just escaped from, you worry for your hair? How am I friends with you again?” Iwaizumi asks disbelievingly._

_"You...love me...is what." Oikawa attempts a weak joke._

_"Just shut up and rest, dumbass." Iwa stands, but not before placing a chaste kiss on his temple._

_"Ugh. Get a room, lover boy." He nodds at Iwaizumi’s leg. “You doing nothing to patch that up?” It had an ugly laceration, like something with a blunt end had scraped against the skin, leaving blotches of purple and red._

_Iwaizumi inspects it nonchalantly. “I can still move it so it’s not that bad, I guess. I’ll cover it up though, so don’t worry.” He looks down. “And what of yours?”_

_Matsukawa raised a palm over his shoulder that had a clean cut, from the broken glass when they hustled out the windows. “I can still move it so it’s not that bad.” He repeated Iwaizumi’s statement._

_Sensei.” The sharp call was from Kunimi. There was urgency in his voice. When Mizoguchi and a few came to him they realized why._

_“Holy shit.” Iwaizumi couldn’t stop the profanity off his mouth._

_Kindaichi was cradling Watari. He has various injuries, but that is to be expected as he was in the front seat of the bus earlier and had been in the frontline when the shootout occurred. But the most lethal ones were the gaping hole on his chest and the leaking wound on his left calf. Blood pooled beneath him._

_“Fuck.” Mizoguchi failed to keep his composure and knelt quickly to try and fix him up. “Lie him down. Get something under his head.” Kindaichi lowers their friend and pries off his jacket. He folds and puts it behind Watari’s head. “Give me something to stop the bleeding.” Mizoguchi says as he removes his belt. Hanamaki offers his jacket. He presses the cloth to his upper abdomen but the white material immediately gets coated with red. “Goddamn it.”_

_Saeko now assists him in his feat. She was wobbling with her leg injury but refused to move away when gently pushed aside. She takes off her belt as well._

_“No no no, Saeko not yours.”_

_“Do you think this is the fucking time for that?” She all but screams. They seemed to have forgotten they were professional adults and berated each other with curses._

_They tie the belts mid-calf and around his chest, making an improvised tourniquet. It should stabilize the circulation and stop the bleeding, eventually. They cut strips to bandage the wound and it earns a painful gasp from the barely conscious youth._

_“Stay with us, Watari. Keep your eyes open. That’s it.” Saeko says encouragingly as her hands work over his body. Matsukawa lumbers over with a handkerchief drenched with stream water. She uses it to dab at the wound slowly. “This isn’t getting us anywhere, Kaname. He’s bleeding too profusely and we’re lacking sufficient supplies.” She whispers, noticing the rapid sieving of clear water to red._

_“Goddamn it.” Mizoguchi curses again because she was right._

_Watari’s eyes droop dangerously. “Y-Yuda…where’s…Yuda?”_

_“I’m right here.” The petite boy staggers to him. He had a head injury like Oikawa but he forced to take heavy steps towards his best friend. He takes the outstretched palm._

_“Thank god. I thought you…” big gasp, “…were among our friends that were in the explosion. I…didn’t see you get off.”_

_“Iwaizumi helped me out. I would’ve been barbecued if he hadn’t.”_

_Watari smiles despite the visible strain. “Thanks, Iwaizumi.” He tells the tall man._

_“It’s no problem. I would’ve saved everyone if…” he stops, not further elaborating. He knew he couldn’t get everyone out on time, after all. “We’ll get out of here. All of us. I’ll make sure of that.”_

_“I’m…glad…” Watari lets out a long sigh. “It hurts…”_

_“I know, sweetheart. But eyes on us, okay?” Saeko coos, like she was talking to a toddler. Her eyes were already brimmed with tears._

_“I…my mom was coming home this weekend…I…wanted to…take her…to Tokyo…She’d been…overseas…for-for three years…I…” Watari’s sentences held more pauses as if talking was a struggle. “…I wanted to-to cook…for…her…”_

_He stopped. His eyes were still open but there were no more additional narrations. He’s gone._

_Yuda clenched his teeth. “Shinji.” He choked and hugged his childhood friend. The hurt was plain and it was palpable and present in their small disheartened party._

_“Damn it. Damn it.” Mizoguchi tried to suppress his own agony but it was challenging. He had lost more than a dozen of his class. The helplessness and frustration he felt was at its pinnacle._

_The sobs and cries echoed in the still wilderness. Loss was thick in the air. Despair a looming storm cloud that would fall its shower of sadness on the earth._

_Oikawa watches the heart breaking scene from afar. Tears pricked his lashes and he swallows three times before his voice was steady enough to speak. “Will you kill me, Iwa-chan, if I ask what in the world did we get ourselves into?”_

_Iwaizumi turns to him stiffly, his voice breaking too. “For the moment it’s completely forgivable, Shittykawa,” he raises angry green orbs at him, “Because I want some fucking answers to what_ Project Syndrome _is all about too.”_

* * *

 

 

_The sky was already darkening. That was not a good sign. Especially in the middle of nowhere._

_“We need to find some shelter for the night.” Matsukawa says for the group. They were physically drained and rest was inevitable._

_“No shit, Sherlock. We need more than that. We need food and potable water.” Iwaizumi rubs his arms as the temperature drops suddenly. “And some blasted firecrackers because we’re gonna get our asses frozen when this goes down below 0 Celsius.”_

_Mizoguchi agrees silently. He scans their surroundings. “Well, good thing I was a boy scout back when I was ripe. We need to head towards those mountains. We’ll find a cave or something. Once we’ve settled, we’ll worry about food hunting.”_

_Yahaba shivers. “Aw man, I was never fond of the outdoors. Lots of wild animals that prowl around. And have I mentioned there is a 60% chance of developing lethal illnesses by tick and louse bites?”_

_“Scientists say the universe is made up of neutrons, protons and electrons. They forgot to mention morons. Seriously, kaichou, is this the right time for you to educate us?” Hanamaki says while shaking his head._

_“You on the other hand, are proof that evolution can go in reverse. Give me a break, Maki. We barely have sufficient provisions here. We don’t have any of our bags nor mobile phones.”_

_“I’m sorry; I was too busy running for my life earlier to think about snatching up my backpack. But please, if you think it necessary why don’t you go back and get it? Oh right, the bus went ka-boom and so did our stuff.”_

_Yahaba rolls his eyes. “Forget it. You talk harshly when you’re agitated anyway.”_

_They found two caves on the mountainside. The first was occupied by Mizoguchi, Iwaizumi, Oikawa, Yuda and Matsukawa. Hanamaki and the rest lodged in the other._

_“Be careful, none of us are familiar with this area. It’s too far high from Miyagi civilization and we’re still not certain if our unknown perpetuators are lurking somewhere here as well,” Mizoguchi warns the trio consisting of Iwaizumi, Kindaichi and Kunimi. They had volunteered to go find some food. “Don’t get too far from where we’ve camped. It’s easy to get lost in a forest. At the first sign of trouble, you haul your asses back here immediately, understood?”_

_“Yes sir.” The three replied before being dismissed. They disappear into the bushes._

_Saeko comes over and informs them her mobile has no reception. She had been the only one among them that still has her phone but it was useless anyhow. She tells them something too. “Yahaba’s heating up. Must be from his shoulder wound. If we don’t make it back to the city and get him some proper meds, he won’t last out here.”_

_Mizoguchi nods grimly. “We’ll make it back. For now, let’s focus on trying to keep the rest of them safe.”_

_“I’m sorry,” Saeko says, earning a surprised look from the other teacher, “We shouldn’t have gone this way. We should’ve stick with our foremost route. If we did, we wouldn’t have been—“_

_“Stop that. You didn’t know this would happen. None of us did. So don’t blame yourself, sensei.”_

_Saeko sniffs, not being able to hold her grief. “We lost so many of them, Kaname. We couldn’t…couldn’t protect the boys.”_

_Mizoguchi takes her hand. He grips it in comfort. “I know. That’s why we’re going to do our best to keep the ones we have now.”_

_Without fire to warm them up, the remaining survivors of Aoba Johsai High School huddled closer in their primitive safe haven. Mizoguchi offered to stand guard and insisted Oikawa and his friends take their much needed rest._

_“How’s Yudacchi holding up?” Oikawa asks from his corner in the cave._

_Matsukawa gazes over the still weeping youth and shrugs. “He probably feels like shit. We all do. After what happened.”_

_Oikawa closes his eyes. “I still don’t know what_ happened _actually.”_

 _He hears Matsu hum in agreement. “It’s hard to grasp everything, to be frank. Even sensei could not get a head of this whole mess. Our only clue is this_ Project Syndrome. _” He laughs emptily. “I mean, it all seems unreal, you know?”_

_Oikawa exhales painfully, feels the tears betraying his resolve. “Lots of us died earlier.”_

_“I know.”_

_“We’ve just been shot, out of nowhere. Lots of our classmates died.”_

_A choke. “I know.”_

_“Are we going to die too?”_

_There was a long pause. “I don’t know, Toru. I fucking don’t know.”_

Bang!

_Mizoguchi topples down, back first. “Argh!!!” He cradles his shoulder, the one that was just shot. “Shit! They found us!”_

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

_The cave entrance was bombarded with bullets. The students went to their knees to keep out of range._

_“Get the hell out of here!” Mizoguchi orders. Then he stands between the raining bullets and his students, creating some sort of human shield. He takes all the shots, holes drilling in his body. “GET OUT OF HERE!!!”_

_They scampered like ants, evading by sticking to the mountain walls until they had fled further into the trees._

_“Kaname! Kaname!” Saeko was screaming, lagging behind as she refuses to leave the other behind._

_“Sensei, we have to go!” Kyoutani pulls at her arm roughly._

_They ran like prey being hunted, not looking back, and Mizoguchi’s frantic yells in the background. “GET OUT OF HERE!!!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Saeko's at Aoba Johsai. How screwed up is that? XD XD XD

**Author's Note:**

> I just don't know why I want to torture myself more. God.


End file.
